The Nether Scroll

"They're not going to do me any good."

"I'm asking you to remember how to kindle the enchantment, in case someone forgets." Dru's glance darted to Sheemzher and back again.

Tiep's heart skipped a beat, and not because the goblin might forget his instructions. "Dru? What do you mean, Dru? You're sounding like you're not going to be in the egg chamber ..." His voice trailed off. "What's going on, Dru?"

His foster father shrugged. "I don't see myself there, so I'm being careful."

"What do you mean you don't 'see' yourself. You haven't—you know—had a vision or something?"

"No visions, Tiep." Dru tried to laugh; the attempt wasn't entirely successful. "Not even close to a vision. When I cast an enchantment that's tied to a future act, sometimes I get a flash of that act. Most of the time I don't; most of the time, I'm not there when the spell kindles, so why should I get a flash? This time I'd expected to be there when this unbinding kindles. In case I'm not—two claps, then pull. All right?"

"Yeah," Tiep muttered. "You're sure everything's going to be all right?"

"No one's ever sure, Tiep. That's why I'm being careful. I've told you and Sheemzher. I told Rozt'a before she went down for a nap. I could wish I had more time, more gloves, but wishes don't count. You sticking close until we head below with Ghistpok?"

"You're sure we're going in with him?"

"That's the plan right now. I told you; no one's ever sure. Settle in. Grab a nap, like Rozt'a's doing. I need to rest my mind."

Tiep went through the motions of settling in amid the trash piled up behind the old Zhentarim headquarters. He closed his eyes. Usually he had no trouble falling asleep—the exhausted innocence of youth, Galimer called it. Sleep wasn't waiting for him in Dekanter. Maybe he was growing up.

He thought of Manya and Pulsey, the girl he'd met in Llorkh, and Basienne, who was prettier than both Manya and Pulsey together and might be waiting for him in Scornubel, if he was lucky enough to get back to Scornubel. He thought of Galimer, too, and how close they'd be to Parnast and Manya when they got to Weathercote. Then he thought of Amarandaris and how cold the air in Dekanter had gotten.

The goblins were still singing and drumming, though not as loudly or rapidly as before. It was good to know there were limits. The camp was quiet enough that Tiep could hear Dru whispering nearby. He cracked an eyelid—in case his foster parents were having an actual conversation—but it was just Dru preparing himself for the Underdark with his fists clenched and his eyes squeezed shut. When push came to shove, spellcraft demanded a lot from the wizards who practiced it. Tiep was long past the days when he mourned the vocation he couldn't have.

Druhallen had worked up a sweat by the time he'd finished preparing his spells. His hands shook just a little when he folded his box. Tiep wondered what he'd studied, but wasn't bold enough to ask. It was like asking someone if they wore undergarments to bed. When Dru glanced his way, Tiep closed his eyes again and feigned dreams.

He didn't have to pretend for long. The drummers and singers kicked up a sudden racket. Dru gave both him and Rozt'a a gentle shake to awaken them.

"Ghistpok's come outside. They're all headed down to the chalk circle. We're under way."

For a man who hadn't slept, Tiep was both stiff and groggy. He yawned mightily but couldn't get enough air into his lungs to shake off the lethargy.

"You can stay behind," Rozt'a suggested when she saw him struggling.

They were always suggesting that, as if he were still a child and not up adult responsibilities. "I'm coming. I'm ready."

"Then keep moving. Sheemzher, what are they singing about now?"

The goblin song had changed. It had words, now, though it was still mostly drone and entirely sour.

"People calling Beast Lord, good sir. People say, Beast Lord wise, Beast Lord good, Beast Lord come—" Sheemzher lapsed into a bit of goblin so-called melody.

"That's enough," Dru chided.

Starlight revealed an easy path from the Zhentarim headquarters to the chalk circle. Dru didn't have to waste a light spell, if he had one to spare. The goblins had arranged themselves on the chalk: males surrounded by children, then females. Those males with the largest family rings clumped closest to the black standing stone. Those with fewer, sat farther away.

If Sheemzher had had only Elva and six children, then Sheemzher had sat on the circle's very edge.

While Ghistpok anointed the stone with various oils, wineskins the size and shape of rats were passed from one harem to the next. Everybody took a sip, even the children. The males took several, but nobody got as much as a goblet's worth. Within minutes, they were on their feet swaying and droning again.

"Doesn't take much to get a goblin drunk," he commented.

"They're smaller," Rozt'a chided.